


Lost Heart

by SupernaturalMystery306



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Angst, Castiel Works in an Office, Dean is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Medical Facts Exploited For Personal Gains, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sam Is So Done, Supportive Gabriel, Tags Are Hard, lowkey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 05:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10937670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupernaturalMystery306/pseuds/SupernaturalMystery306
Summary: In a world where hearts lie in pocket-watches, meant to be given to your loved one, Castiel finds one lying on a road.Rejected.He should just walk on and forget about it. Or give it to the police. But he doesn't want the poor person to be hurt, like he had been all those years ago. That's the only reason he picks it up. He's just holding on to it till the person decides to get it back.That's all.Until he gets attached to the heart.





	Lost Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pimento](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pimento/gifts).



> Written for my dearest Pimento since it's her birthday on the 19th~!! EARLY GIFT! Love you loads!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3  
> yes they're 45
> 
> Based on _[this prompt](http://auideas.tumblr.com/post/158162690482/clockwork-heart-au)_ (click only if you want spoilers) by the lovely blog auideas on tumblr. Thank you for your lovely ideas!! :)
> 
> A basic explanation of this universe, according to the prompt's requirements:  
> Each person owns a pocket-watch, which has their heart in it. It's a gift meant to be given once they find their soulmate. Which brings in the matter of giving one's heart to their soulmate _literally._  
>  I will add on more to this as the story progresses. Don't want to give anything away. :P
> 
> Just so you know, updates will be extremely slow, so if you're one of those people who like updates to be fast, I advise you to maybe bookmark/subscribe to this (if it interests you) and read it all when I finish, because I can't possibly update soon.

**_“You've been acting awful tough lately,_ **   
**_Smoking a lot of cigarettes lately,  
But inside, you're just a little baby.”_ **

* * *

It’s lying there innocuously. Castiel looks around, hoping to catch a glimpse of a person, who must be looking around by now, but he finds no one. Why?

Of all the things he expected to see, he didn’t expect to see one of these on the side of a road.

He stops next to it, stoops, reaches out, then his hand freezes. Why is it there?

Is… Is the owner- don’t tell him…

He bends down further.

It’s still ticking.

He sighs, the feeling of relief surprising him. Whoever it belongs to, must be alive.

Should he make the effort to find out himself whose it is? Or should he leave it in the custody of the nearest police box?

Maybe… Maybe the person doesn’t want it back. That isn’t uncommon, is it? Once in a while, someone goes wrong and gives their watch to the wrong person, only to be rejected. It can go both ways. Either the rejected starts hating it, and throws it away. Or… the object of affection accepts the watch, and then tosses it the first chance they get, because they just cannot be honest like a decent human being.

Where does it leave him, if it’s the second case? The owner could be found if investigations occur properly, and then what? What if they’re so shattered that they can’t go on, just because some ‘stupid official’ decided to take matters into their own hands? Nevermind the fact that facing the truth is always for the best.

But…

He doesn’t want anyone to face such a truth. Call it hypocritical, call it sympathy - maybe he sees himself in this unknown person’s fate.

After all, wasn’t he the one ten years ago, who nearly threw himself away with his heart? It’s his _duty_ , to not leave anyone else in such a predicament.

He swallows. He has to do it.

His fingers close around the heart as he picks it up. Willing himself not to look at it further, he just pockets it.

The heart beats steadily, and his legs start moving.

-x-

It’s been a few hours since he reached the office, but Castiel can’t focus on work. It’s not the watch that’s weighing him down. It’s just… Everything feels dull.

With the turning up of the watch, he’s just getting bombarded with the memories he securely locked up among the cogs of his own.

So, maybe it is the watch.

Why are people so complicated?

He remembers reading a book on this subject once. It said something about the existence of the heart being like time… Always beating, moving forward. Whether or not the person can keep up is not of concern to either.

_“Time and the beating of the heart will keep going without regard for anything so mundane as feelings.”_

Pitiful. That’s just what it is. Even after how far they’ve come, they’re still creatures governed by petty things.

The door opens, and he looks up from the file that he truthfully, wasn’t paying attention to at all.

Mr. Lafitte leans against the door, and says, “You’re supposed to get that one to the Director by five, you know?”

What? He wasn’t informed of that!

He says so, and the man raises an eyebrow, “Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You came into work late, and on top of that, you’ve barely concentrated all day. Is everything fine?”

He sighs. No point being rude to someone who’s only concerned. “Yes, sir, I’m quite sure that I’m alright.”

“And I’m fish food, Novak. Don’t take me for a fool, we all can see that one of our most diligent and focused employees is barely in that state right now.”

Castiel flushes lightly. Is the shift in his mood really that obvious? He doesn’t want to burden anyone with his personal life and its woes. Nor do they have any right to ask him to share.

He keeps his thoughts in check, and shakes his head. “You have nothing to worry about, sir. It’s just the weather.”

And that’s partially true. It wasn’t just him who felt things were dull. There really are grey clouds gathering in the sky, bathing the place in a dull, greyish yellow colour, from what he can see. The window being left open, with the wind blowing in furthers his argument.

His superior gives him a long look, then nods. “Very well.” He straightens, moving away from the door and brushing off his suit, “Get it done by five, then feel free to leave.”

Castiel takes his advice, and turns to work as the door shuts behind Mr. Lafitte.

-x-

It’s grueling.

He doesn’t know why he’s been assigned this particular proposal, a discussion for which he wasn’t even present - courtesy of one of the trips his seniors ever-so-kindly sent him on (honestly, they loved running him to the ground, bunch of sadists) - but in addition to being difficult, it’s also _exciting_ . He _likes_ that they’ve put him to something which is making him do something other than mindless routine work.

He highlights another line, adding his notes in the margin.

Do they need a better transporter for fragile goods? Yes, yes they do. Should they pay him the same as they pay the one they usually use? No, of course not. Is the client from Sweden really worth prioritising over the one from Germany? Well, if they could juggle them both then that would be ideal.

It’s nearing four by the time he finishes, and he reads over the notes he’s left, a cursory glance to make sure he’s not written anything atrocious.

He pushes his chair back and stands up, waiting for the feeling to return to his legs. (Who ever thought sitting in one place for seven hours was good, Castiel?)

He picks up the folder, making sure none of the papers are out of order, and then he walks out.

He takes the elevator to the Director’s floor, waiting as the floors fly past. One of his hands lands on the glass wall, and he unconsciously closes his other into a fist.

The wall is strong; designed to withstand drunk or angry idiots - not unlike himself at the moment - but on its own, how strong is glass?

Fragile, cracks appearing at the smallest offence, spreading till it shatters, shards flying everywhere. Ruining things.

Just like human emotions.

He shakes his head, hating himself for forgetting to keep a check on his own.

He’s stronger than this. He’s not going to get depressed and-or philosophical in a damn elevator, most of which is transparent and thus broadcasting his every action for all his colleagues to see.

He removes his hand from the wall, slipping it into his pocket and pulling out the pocket-watch he’d acquired in the morning. He looks at it, properly, for the first time. The needles move, unaware of how much trouble they’ve caused him, and are probably causing whoever owns the watch.

His other hand almost reaches up to undo the top button of his shirt. Almost.

This is not the place for such an act.

He tries to hand the folder to the Director’s assistant, but Mr. Winchester tells him to go in himself. “The Director wishes to discuss something else with you, Mr. Novak.”

He nods, thanks the man, and knocks at the Director’s door. When he’s allowed to enter, he pushes open the door.

The Director is, as always, facing away towards the windows that make up one of his room’s walls. It must be quite nice to be able to watch the entire city, Castiel muses.

Spinning the chair to face towards the desk, the Director fixes his stare on him.

“Castiel.”

He nods, tilting his head down slightly, “Mr. Milton, good evening.”

“I’ve told you a million times… Don’t call me that. In the privacy of my office, you can call me by my name.”

“I apologise, it’s a habit I can’t seem to break.”

The Director sighs, “One of these days… Forget it. Are you done?”

“Yes,” Castiel replies, stepping forward, “here you go. I’ve added my notes, I hope nothing I suggested is outlandish.”

He places it on the desk, and the Director picks it up, flipping through before a smile breaks out on his face. “You never fail to impress.”

Castiel gives back a half-smile. It’s the least he can do, considering everything the man in front of him has done for him.

-x-

He leaves the office after that, at his superior’s insistence, and takes the train home. The seats are full, various people coming from or going to their destination, and he’s left without a seat. That’s alright, though, because he’d rather stand next to the doors and be the first to get out when they open.

His house is calling him, his bed more so.

Unexpectedly, his hand goes to his pocket again, but this time, he’s prepared for it. When the train stops at his station, he checks the situation of all his belongings, and then gets off.

His hand doesn’t leave his pocket.

At home, he eats a light dinner, choosing to heat the leftovers from the morning. He turns on the TV, surfing through the channels, hoping to see any news about a lost heart. It’s in vain, he knows that he’s most probably right about his predictions, and so no one would step forward to claim what he has now as their own.

The pocket-watch, lying on the table, seems to have no interest in Castiel’s dilemma, just tick-tick-ticking rhythmically to the beat of its owner’s heart.

He doesn’t want to open the watch up. The fob is the only thing protecting another person’s _heart_ from him.

To be completely honest, what he has done is a crime - not legally, but _morally_. He should have handed it over to the police as a lost heart. And now, he’s stolen a heart.

_Why?_

But does it really matter, when the owner didn’t file a lost heart case? Honestly, he’s protecting it from people with ill intentions.

His pulls open a few buttons, and takes off his shirt. Resting his palm against his chest, he closes his eyes.

When he opens them, he’s staring at his own watch. It continues ticking the way it has been, the rhythm nearly constant over the twenty-seven years he’s had it. The dias gleams dully, the numbers faded. A crack runs vertically down the fob, and he presses his fingertips to it.

It’s familiar, soothing in its contrast to the impeccable foreign watch on his table.

Inexplicably, he feels the urge to provide a bit of comfort to it. Whoever owns it is a sad individual, he shouldn’t expect them to want to take it back anytime soon. Till that time, the heart’s in Castiel’s care. He should provide what little assurance he can.

He leans forward, then retracts his hand. Again. Thrice. He steels himself, and grasps it.

The golden watch shines, much brighter than his own, and he pats it.

_I’m here for you._

Under his fingers, the heart beats.

**Author's Note:**

> AAAH!!!
> 
> So I don't plan to update this for a long time now (because I have a heckton of things to do), but I hope you all liked whatever I put up currently. If the m&td lyrics disappear halfway through (or even after this chapter), please just forget they ever existed here, thanks :')
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING!!!! <3 You can say hI!!/hELlo!!!!! on Tumblr at [Evenifidie](http://evenifidie.tumblr.com). :D


End file.
